


Various Writings from the Diary of Amya, Daughter of Lord Morgarath

by penninghistory



Category: Ranger's Apprentice - John Flanagan
Genre: F/M, Multi, a child picks their own path, journal style, war turns to peace to war again
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-20
Updated: 2019-09-19
Packaged: 2020-10-24 10:03:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20704169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/penninghistory/pseuds/penninghistory
Summary: My story began in a bath of blood and fire and bone. My story will end the same way. The same way my father's finished, the way my mother's was clipped short by a knight's blade.I hope whoever finds this diary will be able to open their hearts to learn the story of those left affected by the aftermath of the war and find it in themselves to forgive my sins, as I have not been able to myself.





	1. Chapter 1

September, the year is 672 

Dear Reader,   
My name is Amya, daughter of a forgotten warlord, and now the wife of Erak Starfollower, Oberjarl of Skandia. I'm writing this to clear the air in a way I'm not sure many other people can. It's been lingering in the back of my mind for some time now, and the memories of a time that should have faded away have yet to. They are etched into my consciousness like lines on an older woman's face, and each one tells a story.   
So, this is what I aim to do here. I pray that whoever finds this in years to come, finds it in themselves to forgive me of my sins. Forgive my father as well. While his aim was less than noble, his plans even less so, he was my father. And all that he did, he did for my mother.   
I know the majority of this isn't going to make sense to an outsider looking into the past, so I'll start from the beginning, during the first war. I was eight at the time. 

Spring, in the year 627.   
I had been missing for days. My father had told me that Mother was in a frantic panic to find me, fearing the worst. She was hoping for the best. That best being that I was safe inside their line of troops, which rallied behind Hackham Heath. The worst being that I had been captured, if not killed by enemy forces under the newly-crowned King Duncan. The truth was, I had been caught while exploring the terrain. I had been told several times by my mother, a strong noblewoman named Elizabeth, not to do that, that it would ruin one of the only items of clothing she'd been allowed to pack before we fled. But I, like so many children that had come before me, casually ignored that rule.   
It was dark. Dark and cold. I had only allowed myself one oil lamp, carefully hidden from my mother. I had snuck two apples from one of the supply carts, carefully wrapped them in linen, and made my way to the edge of the clearing where we had made camp. There were a lot of exciting sounds, and I wanted to follow every single one. But one of them stood out more than the others. It sounded more human than anything nature could have made. Though it made my blood go ice cold with fear, I quietly made my way towards it. My curiosity took over my mind, silencing the voice telling me I needed to flee, to hide. When I reached the place where the sound was coming from, it was across the river, made by two men sitting on horseback.   
The jingle of their equipment, the lowered tone of their voices drew me closer to the edge of the water. I stayed low, trying to remain in what little cover there was by the water's edge.   
"We should be returning soon," one of them said, a northerner's accent making his words almost incomprehensible. "Lord Northolt will be wondering where we've gotten off too."   
"Aye," said his companion, taking once last glance over where I was hiding. I froze, fear stilling my breath, and my heart rate rising as his gaze passed over me. His look stiffened, and I forced myself not to move. "Do ya see something out there?"   
The first man looked out at my hiding spot and nodded, his hand going somewhere that I couldn't see. I gulped, then started to back away slowly as he spurred his horse over to the other side of the bank. The scream that threatened to burst from my small frame stuck in my throat. It came out a strangled gasp instead, and before I had a chance to fully stand to run, I felt a hand grasp the back of my shirt, and then the ground leaving my feet. My lamp fell useless to the ground beside us, and I screwed my eyes shut. I refused to look at the man that had become my captor, and part of me wondered if he would hit me for my refusal.   
Instead, he called back to his partner. "It's only a child!" I winced, wondering what he was going to do. His next words surprised me. "We should take her to the King."   
It was then that I started to struggle, crying, and trying to hit anything that I can. "No! Please!" I yelled, but both men ignored my hits and words as they rode away from the water.   
I glanced behind once, to see that lights were starting to shine in father's camp. I could hear my mother's worried cries of my name. My father's joined soon after, but before I could scream for help, the men had safely returned to the safety of their camp.   
I wasted no emotion, dared not show them the fear I felt. These people were Father's enemy. My enemy. Though we might have belonged to the same country months earlier, my home was the Mountains of Rain and Night now, not the fief that had held most of my life.   
They left me unbound, though situated between two armored men, one of them a tall blonde with eyes so blue they could rival the ocean. The other, an older man with graying brown hair, told me in passing that I reminded him of his granddaughter. Asked me to open my eyes so he could see them. I shook my head quickly at that. I wouldn't show them anything they could use against my father.   
It wasn't until the chill of night had replaced the warmth of a tent that I almost gave up my resolve. I sensed someone kneel in front of me, and I turned my face away, only to have it gently turned back to face whoever it was that was looking me over. There was a hum of recognition, and then a familiar voice. "She has the look of Morgarth," said the man's voice. "And the men who brought her here say she refuses to open her eyes?"   
"Yes, My Lord. They assumed her blind."   
A grunt and the first man spoke again. "Hardly. Unless something has happened, she looked healthy at the tournament." A sigh this time, then a long pause. "If you would only open your eyes, child."   
I whimpered, then whispered, "I want to go home. I'm scared!"   
Someone muttered something and a new voice, one I almost recognized instantly came from by my side. "Why are you scared?" Someone, Crowley, I assumed, asked.   
"Papa said you would hurt me," I replied, voice shaking. "I don't wanna get hurt, or die..."   
Crowley seemed to chuckle, then turned me to face him. "Will you open your eyes for me, then? So I can help you?" I hesitated, then did what he asked, staring at his familiar red curls. "That's a girl..." he seemed to study me, then looked at whoever stood behind me and nodded. "Are you hungry?" he asked. When I nodded, shyly, he smiled and took my hand. "Come on, you can come with me, and we'll get you something to eat."   
As we left the tent, I could hear whisperings of what exactly they were going to do with me. I tried to ignore it and shove my fear down. It wouldn't do for the enemy to know that I was afraid.


	2. Chapter 2

One day after I had been taken into this strange camp, I was summoned into the Command tent.  
Duncan sat on a small camp chair, next to a sand map. I could recognize several features in the landscape but kept my mouth shut, waiting for him to make the first move. Father used to tell me that situations like those were like playing a game of chess. Sometimes, you had to let the other person make the first move to know where to go yourself. Uncomfortable, unpleasant silence seemed to stretch for an eternity, before Duncan finally spoke.   
"You remind me of him," he said, and I watched his eyes for any sign of anger there. I was almost surprised there wasn't any there. He looked at me with an almost pitying look in his eyes, as though he knew something about Father that I didn't realize that I hadn't learned yet. "My father used to tell me Morgarath looked at him the way you're looking at me now. Proud, almost self-important. But there's something in your eyes I don't understand. Why are you afraid, child?"   
"I'm not afraid. Not of you, not of this place," I said, defiantly. Duncan's eyebrows rose, and I continued in the same tone. "I'm not afraid of anything you could do to me. I'm scared of what you could do to my Father. To my mother."   
"Why would I hurt your mother?"   
"Because she picked my Father's side. Because she had me, had my brother, knowing that one day Father would rebel. Or maybe she didn't. Perhaps because she doesn't want to split my family in two, my father would've taken me into the Mountains anyway." I looked back towards the entrance to the tent. "My family is a family of traitors, according to you, to the old King, to anyone who is on your side of this story."   
Duncan sighed, almost tiredly, and gestured to another camp chair. I moved to sit, perched on the edge of the chair, posed to flee or fight. He gave me an apologetic look, then asked me, "What has your father told you about me?"   
I was taken aback by the question, startled by the sincerity in his voice. He seemed young, but yet the slouch of his shoulders made him look older. Almost wiser, in a weird way. I took a deep breath, and said, "That you'll hurt me for being his child. That if you win and he dies, you won't let me live. That I would be a rallying point for any other future rebellions."   
He smiled at me slightly, as if impressed by my knowledge. "Well, he's wrong on a few things. I wouldn't hurt you just for that. You're a child, not an enemy of the kingdom." He stood, moved away, and I could see the weight on his shoulders increase. Part of me knew he was hiding something, and I knew I needed to say something about it.   
"Would you have to kill me, though?" I asked, allowing some of my fear to slip through into my tone. He tensed, and I continued. "I would understand, but at least tell me..." I swallowed, looked away, "My mother...she says she's gonna give me a brother or sister soon. Maybe during the war. Would they have to die too?" He swung around to face me, and I could see the sudden fear in his eyes.   
"She's pregnant?" he asked me, and I nodded, looking at him, confused.   
"Why are you scared?" I asked him. "It's not your sibling."   
He sighed again, looking away. "Don't worry about that," he said, then looked towards the entrance as someone stepped into it. It was Crowley, and he wore a look of concern on his face. "Lady Elizabeth wishes to parlay."


End file.
